Loyal
by RawMateriel
Summary: Bellatrix Black is caught teal-handed at her new job in the Ministry. Written for the QLFC.
Written for Season 4 of the QLFC, Round 1.

Title: Loyal

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

Position: Chaser 2

Prompt: Write about you chosen Deatheater at work

Word Count: 2,280

Optional Prompts:

4.(dialogue) "I really do like the pants"

5.(word) espresso

14.(word) clock

Beta: Firefly81 (Thank you!)

* * *

Bellatrix stood in the Ministry lift, tapping her foot as it announced each floor. She smoothed her hands over her immaculate robes. She was trying to get used to the idea of wearing teal, as opposed to her customary shade of black. In Hogwarts and at home her wardrobe had always been a smorgasbord of black, lace, and satin. She liked the way dark colours gave the impression of maturity. She was barely out of her teens, and she needed the added years to remind people that she was formidable, not just a girl. She had no use for the pleasure or the opportunity that youth afforded. Her power needed to come from an ancient, ageless source. Her beauty was beyond flesh, it was a legacy, but people had short memories. She had to remind them with every glance and gesture. _Teal._ It had best be worth it.

When she had heard about the job, she knew immediately it was for her. The door to the lift opened and she walked with her head held high through the Ministry of Magic's Historical Research Department. The smell of preservative resin immediately allowed her to feel at home. She made her way down the corridor and turned into a room with three desks. The walls were lined with leather bound books and shelves piled high with stacks of parchment. She took a seat, straightening the clock on her desk.

The job was simple, they were in the business of uncovering the secrets of antiquated magic. Hours were spent breaking curses which hid the content of ancient manuscripts. Once the books were cracked or the words reappeared on the moth-eaten pages, the _wonders_ she had uncovered in that small room. Such dark spells Bellatrix had only dreamed of accessing, which was ridiculous as they were her birthright. She was just as much an artefact of the history of the Dark Arts as any of the enchantments which she was helping to preserve.

She was well qualified for the job, she had already personally turned her family's library upside down, archiving every delicious, sordid discovery as it came. She had a resounding passion for all things old.

The other two desks in the room belonged to shallow minded fools. Today was the last day of her first week suffering the fretful sycophants. Both men, one young, the other old, entered the room.

"Miss Black," greeted the younger. The older only sniffed in her direction before trudging forlornly to his desk. She didn't look up; she had already reached for the first item she was to work on. It was a simple note book. She began with the basic principles of anti-concealment. The office door was left open to let in some much needed air, and she tried to ignore the occasional hubbub of Ministry officials shuffling through the corridor.

Across the room her co-workers practically fainted every time they came close to accomplishing something. A scroll would start gushing blood or a book would burst into screaming flames, and they would jump a mile in the air. She attempted to ignore them as she worked diligently.

She glanced at the clock now and then; she needed to leave the Ministry promptly after work to beat her father home. He could not know that she had found a job. An unmarried woman of her status, he would see to it that she was put out of work within the hour. She wasn't to do anything that would jeopardise her engagement to Lestrange. He was a fine match, she was sure, but then again he was young and picked up bad habits. In January she had seen him drink an _espresso_ outside the Leaky Cauldron. Her lip curled with disgust. Narcissa had insisted that he was just experimenting, that Lucius had been caught by his Father smoking a cigarette, but it still repulsed Bellatrix.

She turned the hefty emerald of her engagement ring inward so that only the simple band was showing. She continued working. If there was any visible symbol of submission she was going to take pride in, it wasn't going to be Rudolphus's ring.

She wanted to work, she had value. She could do more to preserve the old ways as a foot soldier to tradition, than she could as the mother of its legacy. _He_ understood that.

Time passed as she became immersed in the small tome she had managed to access. A quill clutched tightly in her right hand as she made detailed notes in her sloping script. It had details on one of her favourites forms of curse, one that took power from the victim and awarded it to the victor. She hated that even as she lovingly committed the information to memory, she remained hyper aware of the hours creeping up on her. She knew that this room, full of oak furniture and the fearful gasps of her colleagues, was too good to last. She did not need the infuriating tick of the clock to remind her as it stole her precious time away.

Morning ran into afternoon and Bellatrix skipped lunch. Her discomfort gave way now and then as she became truly enamoured with a particularly imaginative piece of magic. It was in one such sleepy moment, when her blood ran like treacle and her heavy lidded eyes looked over her notes in the low light, that her reverie was broken.

"Bellatrix?" his voice was unmistakable. She longed to ignore it, to carry on as if nothing had changed. She was alone in the office. The peons were still away eating. She was terrified to look away from the hard work of that day. She knew it would probably be the last time she saw such a wondrous sight laid before her, but she was no coward.

"Yes," she spoke the words as an admission, looking up to see Rodolphus standing dumbstruck in the door way. She felt a smidgeon of fear; she was intensely aware of the blood in her arms as it rushed around uselessly. The end was inevitable, she had known, but like this?

"You're working?" he asked, as if it wasn't painfully obvious. She was sitting there in _teal._ Her expression hardened as he made his way into the room to inspect her desk. "Oh, Bellatrix," he sounded exasperated and ashamed, but not surprised, "again?"

She stood up, sighing, and began to collect her things.

"Fine. I'm leaving; don't tell my father," she gritted her teeth. She was an angry person, and she was about to prove it for the umpteenth time if Rodolphus pushed her. She couldn't help it, and anyway, she liked it. Unfortunately no amount of sadism was going to allow her to keep working. Her father knew well how to enforce his limits.

"Why do you hide your ring like that?" he asked, staring blankly at her hand. She had not expected that, had she not been raised with proper manners she would have shrugged. Instead she spoke, sounding silly to herself. _Girlish_ , she resented it.

"I'm still getting used to it," she deftly spun the jewel in her hand so that it faced her fiancé. His eyes followed the movement without warmth. There was never any heat, for her it only came with power, not from a simple man.

"Well, you'd better hurry up and adapt."

The office was not large, he did not have to move from where he stood to reach out and shut the door. It clicked shut. She was made instantly self-conscious when he returned his eyes to her. The feeling of physical nervousness had passed, leaving her clammy.

"I will," she clenched her jaw as he lent against the desk opposite hers.

"There are expectations, neither of us can afford to fall short of them," his gaze wandered around the room as he spoke.

"I have expectations of myself; I want to accomplish things. Further our cause. The world can't remain like this, it's filthy."

"You have a place set out for you, don't allow yourself to be misled. Do not dismiss your loyalties."

"I am loyal," she replied. Neither of the two raised their voices. A particular challenge on Bellatrix's part but she couldn't disrespect him further, not if she expected him to keep this misdemeanour between them.

"To whom?"

She walked around her desk so that there was no barrier between them.

"To my family, and therefore to yours."

"You call _this_ showing loyalty to your family?" he gestured around the office. "This is deceit, Bellatrix. I will not have you muddy the Lestrange name with such _modernity._ "

Bellatrix took a step back as if she had been physically struck.

"Me?" she cried, her mouth gaping. She forgot her guise of indifference. "You drink _espresso!_ " she hissed, her eyes were slits.

"No, I don't," he immediately protested.

"I saw you!" she shrieked and he flinched.

"You're wearing teal," he retaliated and Bellatrix fought the urge to tear off the stupid robes.

"I heard that you were sleeping around with a Hufflepuff." Rodolphus rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, if you want to talk about idle gossip, Andromeda told me you wear muggle underwear _,_ " Bellatrix reached up to slap Rodolphus across his smug face but he caught her wrist.

"So it's true then?" he asked and her cheeks reddened. Suddenly he was smiling this small smile. It was rare for him to smile at all. She took a step back.

"Rodolphus," she warned. He stepped with her, he reached and tugged at the shoulder of her robe.

"Let me see," his breath wafted over her face as he laughed quietly. She scoffed.

"I can smell that vile Muggle drink off of you, where do you buy it? A _kiosk_ ," a strange thrill ran through her at the thought. He stopped moving and their dark eyes met.

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes alight with mischief. "It's right across the road from my father's office. Where did you get the pants?"

"Andromeda," the confession peaked out in a whisper and she almost giggled. She didn't let the sound escape though. This was bad enough. She was an artefact, she was of a different time, a grand legacy. She should have been incorruptible, but then, it was just a scrap of fabric. They had been real silk from Paris. You wouldn't even know it was Muggle made if it weren't for the white tag which she had swiftly removed.

"I should take them," he put a hand on her hip, "to save you from yourself."

Had his mouth always been so lovely?

"We're not school children," she groused.

"No, you're a career woman. Perhaps it suits you, maybe I should leave you to keep up the good work."

The resentment she had been holding since she had been caught suddenly began to drain. She felt flushed with pleasure and possibility.

"Don't tease me, Rodolphus," she scowled. His hand began to bunch up the skirt of her Ministry uniform. Slowly raising it so that it was rested above her knee.

"So many expectations," he shook his head tiredly, "but we're still people, you know?"

Then his hand was on the bare skin of her knee, and she jumped like those two pathetic co-workers of hers liked to do at the slightest disruption.

"I like it here," she told him. She rarely took such simple joy from things. His hand fanned out along her thigh. It had never been like this between them. Would it be like this all the time when they were married? Her clothing was pushed aside so that the black silk of her pants was visible, she let him see. She let him look for a moment and then she pushed her skirt back into place. He followed her movements with his eyes and then reached for her hand. He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

"It makes me wonder what other secrets you're keeping. They look almost normal. Do you know how I felt when Andromeda told me you had them?"

"Disgusted?"

"Relieved," his brow furrowed, "it has to be acceptable to give into temptation now and then. Otherwise it would be impossible to remain loyal when it counts. I mean, am I betraying the cause if I say that I really do like the pants?" She wanted to be disgusted, there was no room for weakness like this from Rodolphus. They were supposed to be better than this.

"What does espresso taste like?" the words slipped unbidden from her lips. Her mother was probably spinning like a top in her grave.

"Like dirt," he replied and he kissed her lightly, with no preamble and whispered, "that's sort of the point."

"You're a bad influence."

She could taste the bitter flavour on him.

"And I'm going to keep this secret of yours to prove it," their foreheads were rested together, "we have to learn to live together. We can't be constantly standing on ceremony. Not when we have to focus on convincing everyone else that we're perfect."

Bellatrix nodded and tried to disguise the rush of excitement she felt.

"I'll be discreet," she promised. She had been brought up to feel entitled to so much that gratitude was a stranger to her. She wanted to thank him but the words felt strange on her lips. She settled for a small kiss and an even smaller smile.

"Get back to work," he mumbled, and he left just like that. Bellatrix sat back down at her desk with a sense of heady jubilation. The younger and the older man soon re-entered the room.

"Miss Black," greeted the younger. The old man nodded absentmindedly and sat down. Bella didn't look up, she had already returned to work. The ticking of the clock was drowned out by her contented humming.


End file.
